


The Hounds of Baskerville

by Dreaming_in_Circles



Series: As We Fall [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: AU, Episode: s02e02 The Hounds of Baskerville, M/M, Pre-Slash, s02e02 spoilers!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-03
Updated: 2014-01-03
Packaged: 2018-01-07 08:40:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1117828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dreaming_in_Circles/pseuds/Dreaming_in_Circles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock is investigating claims of a gigantic, genetically engineered hound up on the Moors near a military installation. While there, Mycroft assigns him an escort, the Captain of the guard, a Royal Marine by the name of John Watson. Neither are happy about being forced to work together, but that quickly changes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Escort

**Author's Note:**

> Hello again. I want to take a moment and thank all of the lovely people who're read my other stuff and who are reading this now. Truly, I love you all.  
> Second, this is basically the prolog to The Adventures of the Cardboard Box. You can read one without reading the other, but it might be better to read this first, because then you'll know the backstory for the other. But like I said, it works either way.  
> As usual, this is un-Bata'd and not Brit-picked and I wrote it like five minutes ago because I didn't want to do homework so please warn me of any mistakes or typoes and they will be dealt with. Any and all comments/criticisms are welcome. Also, I haven't watched the Hounds of Baskerville episode in quite some time, so if I screwed any lines, locations, or names up terribly, please tell me and I'll make it better.  
> Finally, I have no clue how may chapters this is going to be, just that it's going to cover about the last half-hour or so of the original show. You'll all smart enough to figure out where I picked up, so just assume what happened before happened before just minus John. Because I'm sure that'll work out somehow.  
> Thanks and enjoy!

Sherlock scowled up at the sky and then looked back down, further hunching his shoulders and pulled the hood farther down his forehead. It was as if the weather was conspiring against him; if he didn't know better, he might actually believe it. First freezing temperatures and now ice-cold rain. What was next, snow? And that's not a request, Sherlock though bitterly.

At this moment, Sherlock hated Mycroft. His overthinking older brother really had no need to be concerned about what Sherlock would do in Baskerville. All he wanted was a look at Dr. Stapleton and her genetic work. For a case! He wouldn't tell anyone what he saw; who did he have to tell, anyway?

Finally, Sherlock saw the beginnings of the guard-change. A quick check of his watch confirmed they were right on time, like clockwork. Sherlock started moving.

All he needed to do was get through the fence and down to Dr. Stapleton's lab. When - or if - he got caught, Sherlock was sure Mycroft would stop short of allowing him to be incarcerated. He'd swapped his customary coat and scarf for a warm, dark parka. It was well-fitted and wouldn't get caught on anything or swish about as he moved. Sherlock would never admit that he missed the latter.

Crossing the field was easy; the guards - Royal Marines by the look of their uniforms - were paying less than full attention to the outside world as the change happened. Sherlock approached the weak section of the fence and was pleased to find that the ground had in fact been eroded, leaving about of foot of space between the ground and the bottom of the fence. Just enough for Sherlock to slide through.

He lied on his back and stuck his arms through, finding purchase on the ground for his feet and on the fence for his hands to half-pull, half-wiggle his way through. He drew his legs up under him in a crouch and grimaced at the cold wetness. Thank God he'd elected to wear jeans and not suit-pants. They'd be ruined forever.

He dashed over to a nearby building. It appeared to be some kind of storage facility, and Sherlock decided to wait here until the relieved guard left. That was the plan until footsteps to his left forced him around the corner. He was too exposed on this side of the building, so he took off for the tangle of pipes a short distance away. The numerous shadows there would surely disguise his figure.

His long legs carried him across the clearing quickly and quietly, and he twisted and ducked his way through the pipes. He heard the sound of boots running, and froze. They slowed to a stop and Sherlock estimated there were right outside the pipe forest.

"See something?" A man some distance off yelled.

There was a long pause before anyone responded. "No. Just a shadow I suppose." The footsteps started again and then faded as the owner got father away. Sherlock turned his head slowly and saw the retreating back of a camouflage jacket. He smirked, tilting his head up slightly, and turned back to face forward, ready to keep going. 

And he walked right into the barrel of a gun. The smirk was off his face in an instant, but by the way the Marine pushed the gun at him, hard enough to nock him over and probably leave a bruise, the man had seen it.

The theory was confirmed by his first words. "Yeah, you keep smiling, snoop. After we're through with you, you won't be doing it much longer."

 

And that was how Sherlock found himself in a guardhouse, waiting for a mysterious and decidedly slow Captain of the guard to show up. He was sitting in a chair, no less than five Marines standing around him. One ankle was handcuffed to the leg of the chair, above the joint of the supporting bar and the leg itself so getting it off would be impossible without the key. His hands were also handcuffed together, in front of him, interestingly enough; all three tight enough that they would leave welts.

Sherlock was sitting with his fingertips together, pressed to his lips. He was trying to think, he needed to find a way out of here and that would probably involve persuading his brother to his point of view, and that wasn't easy - his bother was no fool - and love love me do you know I love you I'll always be true--

Sherlock shook his head angrily and growled to himself. "Would you please turn that absurd noise off?!" He snapped at the nearest and youngest guard. The man was barely not a boy, just a little over eighteen, but he didn't let that stop him from playing soldier. He was not to be taken lightly, and wouldn't be intimidated by Sherlock like most others.

So the child just laughed. And someone turned the radio up higher. Sherlock scowled at them. "This is ridiculous."

"No, this is the Beatles." Someone said and everyone laughed. Sherlock only frowned.

"What?"

"The Beatles. The song, is by the Beatles?" The boy in front of him explained, or what he thought qualified.

"The what?"

"You're telling me you've never heard of the Beatles?" The child asked, sounding incredulous.

Sherlock only scowled at him.

"Someone turn this music down! When I said you could play it, I was thinking almost silent, not rock-band level." Some new joined the crowd, and the Marines jumped to do as he said. The music was turned off completely and the group parted to allow Sherlock to see a shorter man in a green cammo uniform and Captain's insignia. 

"Sorry sir." The child said quickly. 

"Was there a point to having that loud, Corporal?" The Captain moved to stand in front of the child. Despite the fact that the corporal had a good two inches on him, the Captain was the more intimidating out of the pair. It was fascinating to Sherlock to see how demeanor and rank effected those around him.

"The- trespasser hadn't heard of the Beatles, sir. We were just- trying to introduce him to popular culture."

The Captain snorted and turned to look a Sherlock. "Uncuff him."

Every Marine in the room frowned. Sherlock only smirked. "Sir?" Someone asked.

"I said uncuff him." The Captain repeated warily. "He's been spoken for."

Someone moved to Sherlock to undo first the ankle cuff, and then the ones around his wrists. "Who spoke for him?"

"Some government big-wig in a nice suit. I didn't ask questions." The Captain moved over to Sherlock and held out a hand. Sherlock took it and found the man surprisingly strong as he was pulled out of the chair. "My name's Captain John Watson. I'm to be your escort for the remainder of your time here at Baskerville and Dartmoor."

Sherlock was expecting a babysitter at Baskerville, in fact he was counting on it, but for all of Dartmoor? "That's really not necessary." 

"And I told your brother than, Mr. Holmes, but he had no interest in listening to me, so you're stuck with me. So," Captain Watson shrugged. "Where to?"

First things first. "My brother?"

"Yes. Mr. Holmes informed me that he was your brother." The Captain answered without batting an eyelash. So the man wasn't stupid. Good.

"In that case, I need to see Dr. Stapleton."

 

Thankfully, Dr. Stapleton wasn't in her lab, but in a private office. They'd get their in good time. First, he needed to prep Watson. Sherlock started opening and closing draws, cabinets, digging through file boxes. 

"Looking for something?" Watson asked, just standing by the door, hands behind his back.

"Yes." Sherlock muttered, pulling out a file on the current projects at Baskerville. "A gigantic hound."

Watson snorted in obvious amusement, and Sherlock eyes him warily.

"You don't believe the stories?"

Watson smiled and shook his head slowly, eyes in front of him and not on Sherlock. "I've been here... a month? And I haven't seen anything like that. It's just a fairy tale."

"I've seen it." Sherlock said quietly, his voice low enough to get Watson to finally look at him. "It was huge, the size of a mule, thick matted fur, glowing red eyes- The whole body glowed, Captain. There's nothing like that in nature."

Watson shrugged. "You must be mistaken. Trick of the light, maybe."

"It was the middle of the night." Sherlock shook his head, looking back down at the file, then glancing up at the Captain again. He was't quite there yet. Just a little more... "There are projects here that make animals glow, aren't there Captain? And size wouldn't be a problem, making something bigger, easy right? What if it did get out?"

"Impossible." Watson replied immediately. "We'd have been notified. We'd be out there hunting it down right now."

"But what if it escaped some time ago?" Sherlock adjusted himself so he was facing Watson more fully. "Years? Decades, even?"

But the Captain was shaking his head again. "Someone would have been sent out to look for it. The Army wouldn't let something like that, especially if it's as dangerous as you say, just wander around."

"What if they couldn't catch it?"

Watson laughed. "Someone would have found something by now, Mr. Holmes. And if it, by some miracle, it was still free, civilians wouldn't be allowed in the woods." Sherlock opened his mouth to protest. "Mr. Holmes, with all due respect, your not going to convince me the Hound of Baskerville is real."

Sherlock smiled crookedly. "No, I suppose not. Let's go talk to Dr. Stapleton." Sherlock put the files away and stood. I didn't convince you that it was real, but you conceded it might be out there, and it's the thought that counts. Sherlock smiled to himself; one, after all, couldn't kill an idea.


	2. The Test

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here's the second half. I know I probably killed you by making you wait, what? Four hours? Less than that? So here, because I don't want any of my lovely readers to die.  
> Again, this is un-Bata'd and not Brit-picked, so I direct you to the comments.  
> Hope you enjoy.  
> There may or may not be a third part, I can't make up my mind. Drop me a comment if you have a suggestion (I'm very open-minded).  
> Thanks and enjoy!

Dr. Stapleton was in her office with, thank God, coffee. Excellent. The door was open so Sherlock just walked right in. 

"Why did Bluebell have to die, Dr. Stapleton?" Were the first words out of his mouth.

Dr. Stapleton looked up frown. "Sorry?"

"Bluebell. Your daughter's rabbit? Why did he have to die? Was it because he was a special one from the lab, was that why he glowed, Doctor?"

Dr. Stapleton straightened her shoulders and took a deep breath. "There was a mixup. When I found out... he couldn't stay."

Sherlock turned and looked at Watson behind him. "You might want to get some coffee and take a seat. We're going to be here awhile, talking about genetics."

"We are?" Dr. Stapleton injected. 

Sherlock turned back to her, satisfied after the first half-hour Watson would get coffee; he was already sitting down. "Yes, we are. I have permission to see all your research now." Sherlock sat down. "I want to know how you made the rabbit glow."

Theoretically, it could all be part of his research for the case, but in reality the only reason was to buy time until Watson had ingested some of the sugar. Sherlock predicted it wouldn't take much to cause hallucination, just a pinch. It would be enough for him to just slip what he'd taken from Henry's place into the good Captain's drink.

The opportunity came when someone, another Marine, came looking for Watson, and he went out into the hallway to talk for a moment. Sherlock leaned forward, tipping the sugar into the drink. He stirred it with a plastic spoon for only a few seconds before the conversation outside started wrapping up and he pulled it back out. It was probably good enough.

Dr. Stapleton was staring at him with a look that was somewhere between utter confusion and amusement. 

"It's for the case. He doesn't mind." Sherlock explained vaguely. "Please, continue."

"I... um. Of course." Dr. Stapleton stuttered before continuing. She only paused minutely when Watson came back in and tried her hardest not to laugh when he tried the coffee. Sherlock had to admit, his expression was pretty good.

 

An hour later, they'd gone through the whole process of splicing DNA, and Sherlock's head was the closest it had ever been to swimming. So much information, and trying to decide what to keep and what to throw away; it was distracting. 

"I need to see Major Barrymore. I- oh, shit!" Sherlock swore, turning and looking behind him angrily. "I left my coat in Dr. Stapleton's lab." He turned back and faced the Major's office that was mere meters away. "But I need to see Major Barrymore..."

As he expected, Watson took the subconscious hint. "You go to Barrymore's office, I'll go get your coat. If you two finish before I get back, just stay here until I do." Sherlock nodded his thanks and started walked toward the office when a hand caught his arm. He looked up into Watson's clear blue eyes. "Can I trust you?"

Sherlock had the strangest feeling all of a sudden. It took him a moment to recognize the twinge of guilt in the pit of his stomach. As soon as recognizing it, he banished it to the farthest ends of the Universe. I don't care if Watson can really trust me or not, it's not like he'll be around much longer, he told himself adamantly. "Of course." He said to Watson with the barest of smiles.

The Captain searched his eyes for a moment more before nodding and letting his arm go. He gestured for Sherlock to continue down the hall. Sherlock nodded again before turning and disappearing into the office.

 

Sherlock felt genuinely bad about what he'd done. Genuinely. He wished it would go away, it was a terrible feeling, and yet some part of him thought it ought to be there. The wide-eyed, panting, shivering-in-a-cold-sweat Captain in front of him was not alright. Even as he tried to convince Watson everything was fine, he knew it was not alright.

He'd been clear scared, the monitors had proven that, but even so he tried to confront the beast. That was... really admirable. Hiding in the cage when he feared it had been too much for him... that had been smart. The more time Sherlock spent around Watson, the more he came to respect and like-

No! That was not true. He didn't like Watson, merely respected him. That was all. There was no more emotion than that. Sherlock forced himself to believe it even though he knew it wasn't true.

"It was huge? Matted fur? Red eyes? Glowing?" Sherlock asked, as Watson leaned over and tried to slow his heartbeat.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. All of it." The Captain muttered in response.

"No." Sherlock shook his head, and Watson looked up at him in surprise. "Not glowing. I made that up, Watson."

Watson's face was pure confusion. "Wh-what? Ma-made it up? What?"

"It was a hallucination. You saw what you were expecting, just like myself and Henry when we went to Jewer's Hollow." Sherlock paused and took a deep breath. He'd been right. "We've been drugged."

 

"Dr. Mortimer, hang up and call the police. I'll find Henry and make sure he doesn't hurt himself." Sherlock clicked off the line, then started a call to Lestrade. 

"Where will he go?" Watson asked.

"The Hollow. The beginning, the place where it all started." Sherlock was talking without really listening to himself. When his mind processed what he'd just said, he realized what was going to happen. "He's suicidal, Watson."

They met Lestrade just outside the woods ten minutes later. Introductions were limited to "he's with me" and then they raced into the forest to find Henry. 

He was exactly where Sherlock said he'd be, doing exactly what Sherlock said he'd be doing. 

"No, no Henry, no! There was no dog, there was never a hound. It was a hallucination." Sherlock walked toward him, arms outstretched. "You were just a kid when a man killed your father. You couldn't deal with it, so your mind invented the hound to protect you. And when you started to break through, started to remember, the man that killed your father felt threatened, and fed a hallucinogen to prevent you from remembering the truth."

"What? Who!?" Henry yelled, but at least Sherlock was close enough to take his gun, gently of course.

"Dr. Robert Frankland. Keeping you close, to keep an eye on you." Henry was starting to calm down, starting to listen to Sherlock, when there was the sound of growling above them. Sherlock looked up to see the hound.

"Dear God, what is that!?" Lestrade yelled, and that didn't make sense. He'd never ingested the sugar, how could-

Sherlock whirled. There was someone on his left, a man hiding in the shadows, his face obscured. Watson was yelling for Lestrade to shot the beast, Henry was yelling about how it was all true. Sherlock ran for the figure. The two grappled together, fighting. He was wearing a mask, a gas mask. Sherlock ripped it off, and saw Moriarty's face. 

"No." He gasped. "It-it can't be you-"

"Sherlock! Get away from him!" It was Watson yelling at him, and that was enough stimuli for Sherlock to regain control of his mind and he saw it wasn't Moriarty in front of him, but Frankland. 

He looked around, and then grabbed Henry's arm. "Come on. Look Henry, really look. It's not a hound, it's not a monster. Only a dog." Sherlock pointed to the carcass, privately breathing a deep sigh of relief. It wasn't real.

Henry was nodding, still looking shocked and lost and exhausted, but he saw. He understood. 

"It was the gas." Sherlock said, turning to Lestrade and Watson and holding up the gas mask. "That's how H.O.U.N.D. was delivered anyway. Pumps in the rocks, pressure pads in the ground, gassing Henry up every time he came here." Sherlock walked back down into the Hollow. "Weren't you, Frankland?"

"M-my Dad... found something, didn't he?" Henry walked down by Sherlock, eyes fixed on Frankland. "He found- he found this, didn't he? And you killed him." Henry paused for half a second, muscles tensing, and Sherlock realized too late what he was going to do.

"YOU KILLED HIM!" Henry launched himself at Frankland and the two tumbled to the ground. Everyone leapt to pull Henry off Frankland, and as soon as he was free, Frankland took off out of the Hollow.

"Really?" Sherlock heard Watson ask as he raced off after the Doctor. Sherlock smirked.

The race through the forest lasted several minutes, everyone was spread out, chasing one man for four different reasons. Three, actually; Watson was chasing Sherlock.

Frankland leapt the barbed wire, and in the heat of the chase Sherlock failed to realize what that signified. He jumped, knew he'd clear, and then there was a hand on his back and he was pulled backward. He landed flat on his back, the breath knocked out of him. When he opened his eyes, it was to see Watson leaning over him.

He looked up suddenly, and Sherlock followed his gaze. Frankland was standing in the middle of the fenced off area - the mine field, Sherlock realized belatedly - just standing there.

Understanding seemed to hit Watson and Sherlock at the same time and the Captain shouted the Doctor's name right before the man disappeared in a column of fire.

Henry sat down next to Sherlock, clearly mentally and physically exhausted. Sherlock's head was killing him, and he let himself fall back. Watson looked down at him and smirked. Sherlock only closed his eyes.

 

The next morning, Sherlock had been payed and thanked by Henry Knight, and he was on his way out. He had one last stop to make, had to see a man about a dog, and then he'd be on the train. The dog had been the innkeepers, of course, that was obvious. A bit sad, but obvious, and Sherlock had no clue why they hadn't just killed it when the time came.

"Oi! Sherlock!" Sherlock turned to see a man in green fatigues with golden hair jogging toward him. Watson.

"Captain." Sherlock said as soon as the man reached him. He wasn't even breathing hard from the jog.

"Oh, I think you'd better call me John." The Marine said with a mischievous grin.

"Oh?" Sherlock managed to force out, his mind running wild.

"Yeah, I figure if we know each other well enough for you to drug me, than we're probably on a first-name basis." John grinned at him again.

"What makes you think-" denial was Sherlock's first instinct, but John cut him off mid-lie.

"At first, in the lab, you though the drug was in the sugar, right? And then, at Jewer's Hollow, you figured it was in the gas. Well, you purposely exposed me to both, so I think it's far to say you drugged me." Sherlock opened his mouth to explain, or maybe protest, he wasn't sure, but John interrupted him again. "And I just wanted to say: I don't care. At least, not this time." He amended quickly. "Don't do it again, but this time, it was okay."

"Why was it acceptable this time?" Sherlock asked, honestly curious.

"Because what you learned saved Henry's life, and at the time I was being payed to be your guinea pig, so it's all fine." They stood in silence for a moment, and Sherlock frantically debated what he should say next.

"So, you headed for the train station?" Watson - no, John - finally asked.

"Yes, I am. Listen." Sherlock said in a rush. He had something he wanted to say before he lost confidence. "If you're ever around London, come give me a visit sometime. The address is 221B Baker Street. I'd really appreciate it."

John looked surprised, but in a pleasant way and recovered quickly. "I'd like that." He smiled again, slapped Sherlock on the arm, and started to back away. "See you around, Mr. Holmes." He laughed and jogged off. Sherlock rubbed a hand over his arm distractedly as he watched John leave. I certainly hope so, he thought.


End file.
